Spark
by bentkitty100
Summary: Sherlock and John are flatmates, maybe friends. And that's how it is. But when five-year-old genius Annalise arrives at 221B Baker Street, that might change. Reviews appreciated. Will be Johnlock eventually. Slow updates because it is being betaread by livvykitty (thanks, LK!)
1. Child's Play

**Chapter One: Child's Play**

"Well, that case was absolutely ridiculous," said Sherlock Holmes as he and John left the police station, opening their umbrellas as they walked out the door. "I swear, LeStrade and his team of idiots are getting stupider by the day. That was child's play. Anyone could've figured it out."

"Apparently, not the police," said John. "And, call me an idiot, but I didn't get it right away either."

"You're not an idiot," said Sherlock. "You're quite smart for the most part, but you always see the wrong things. If you paid attention to what actually mattered, you'd be brilliant. Taxi!" He stuck out his hand, and a cab rolled up. "221B Baker Street."

As they rode home, the storm grew worse, and Sherlock decided to ramble a bit. "You see, John," he said. "LeStrade and company go about it all wrong. They don't really care if they've got the real murderer. They just want to look like they're doing something, like they're worth something. So they look for fingerprints, look for the obvious evidence, and if they can't find anything obvious, they call it a suicide and are done with it. No killer is stupid, John. They won't leave obvious evidence, and if they do, it's a plant. You have to look at the motives. Who would benefit from a person's death, why would they benefit? Who has the potential of benefitting from a death? Who seems obvious, who seems like a good scapegoat? You have to look at what makes sense and what doesn't. You have to think."

"And LeStrade doesn't think?"

"Have you met him?" They laughed heartily.

The cab pulled up to 221B Baker Street, and the doctor and detective exited the car. But as they did, John noticed something.

"Is that a kid out there?" He pointed to a small figure across the street, sitting on a doorstep.

"What?"

"Sherlock, look, there's a kid out there."

Sherlock turned around, and saw the small figure.

"That's a kid," he said. "A girl, five or six years old. She's—" Sherlock turned to see that John wasn't standing beside him anymore. He was darting across the street towards the little girl.

John approached the figure, and just as Sherlock had said, it was a little girl, with long, messy, reddish-brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was wearing a torn, filthy cotton dress and no shoes, no raincoat, no anything to keep her warm. Her lips were blue, and she was shivering. John knew with one glance that she was close to hypothermic.

"You need to get inside," he said. "Come on." He reached out his hand to the little girl, but she didn't take it. "Come on, I won't hurt you. I'm John. You need to get inside, or else you'll freeze."

The girl shook her head. "I can't," she said.

"I'm sure your mum won't mind; she'd want you to be inside. I'll phone her from inside, okay?"

"I don't have a mum, or a dad, or an anyone."

"So you're all alone out here?"

"Yes, and I'm fine."

"You aren't fine; you're borderline hypothermic. Trust me. I'm a doctor. I know."

"I can't go with you," she said.

"Why not?"

She tried to stand up, but then cried out in pain. "My leg… I can't walk." And she collapsed.

Luckily, John caught her in time. Scooping her up, he walked across the street and into the house.

"Sherlock! Clear a table for me, right now!" he called as he walked in the door.

"What?"

"Clear a table. Now."

"Who's that?"

"Table. Now."

Sherlock cleared a table, and John laid the little girl down on it. "She's hurt, and hypothermic," said the doctor. "Here, take this—" he pulled off her dress, and chucked it at Sherlock "—and throw it out, and then ask Mrs. Hudson if she has any old clothes that'll fit a little girl."

Sherlock, to John's surprise, actually listened to his instructions.

* * *

When Sherlock returned, he found the little girl sleeping on the couch, John monitoring her heart rate and body temperature.

"Did you fix her injuries?" Sherlock asked as he walked towards the doctor.

"It was child's play," he said, grinning. "Literally."

The two laughed. "Well, I brought clothes, and Mrs. Hudson is already sewing more. She should be down in a few hours, anyway."

Just then, the child began to stir.

* * *

**Hey everyone! Here's a new Sherlock fic. It'll be Johnlock, I promise. Eventually.**

**Thanks to livvykitty, who has offered to betaread this story!**

**Love always,**

**Kathryn Willa**


	2. Bracelet

**Chapter Two: Bracelet**

The first thing the girl noticed when she woke up was that there was something missing. She wasn't in pain. She hadn't felt relief since before she could remember things.

Before she had the bracelet.

She had had the bracelet, a spiral of gleaming silver magnetic beads, looping around her right forearm, for as long as she could remember. Then again, she was pretty sure she had some sort of temporary form of amnesia.

She didn't know what had caused the amnesia, but there was a great big gap in her memory. One year was missing.

So who knew when she had gotten that bracelet, really? It was her only and dearest possession; her only clue to who she was. It was how she knew her name. She knew one thing for sure: she had gotten the bracelet sometime during the gap.

She remembered being two, and she remembered turning three. She hadn't had the bracelet then. After she turned three, sometime between then and turning four, everything went blank.

The next thing she remembered, she was in a tube tunnel in London. She knew, somehow, that she was five years old. She could read, and she somehow had an iPhone that she knew how to use. She had injuries and was always in pain. There were vague memories of her parents, from when she was younger. It seemed hazy, though.

"What's your name?" asked the blond-haired man. John, she remembered. He was the man who had saved her. She supposed she could trust him.

And for the first time that she could remember, she spoke a name. It was the name carved into the dark beads of her bracelet, the one she heard as a whisper from a distant past. It was the name she supposed must be hers. But was it really? She couldn't know for sure.

"Annalise."

* * *

**Hey y'alls! Thanks again to livvykitty for betareading this chapter. Couldn't have done it without you!**

**Love always,**

**Kathryn Willa**


	3. Impressed

**Chapter Three: Impressed**

"Annalise," John repeated. The little girl pronounced her name delicately; "Ahna", as opposed to "Anna", but beautiful nonetheless. "That's a lovely name. How old are you, Annalise?"

"Five years old."

"You're only five and you live on the streets all by yourself?"

"I don't have anyone to live with. I've been alone for a long time."

"No, you do, but you don't remember them." Sherlock walked over towards his flatmate and the little girl.

"Sherlock! Don't be so rude!" John reprimanded, only for Annalise to step in.

"He's right," said Annalise. "Wait… did you just say Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"As in… Sherlock Holmes?"

"The one and only." He grinned. "My God! Maybe there really is a child, or hell, a person in the world who isn't an absolute idiot."

"Sherlock!" John reprimanded again.

Annalise just shook her head, "It's okay. Mr. Holmes, I'm such a big fan. I read your website. And you must be John Watson! Oh, I just love your blog. I check it every day."

"You're five, and you can read?" asked John.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Shut up, John, I could read when I was two."

"I don't know when I learned to read, because like you so correctly deduced, as only you could, I have a gap in my memory over a year long. It started after I turned three and ended when I turned five."

"How can you read the blog if you live on the streets?" asked John.

Both the red-haired child and the dark-haired detective rolled their eyes and said "Seriously?" at the same time.

"I spend a lot of time in libraries. I terrify the old ladies sometimes, the things they see me reading. Whenever I go to a library, I ask the old ladies there for the very biggest, most complicated book I can think of and watch their faces when they hear my request. And then I use the computers and read your blog and website."

"I see," said Sherlock. "It's rather incredible that you can be an avid reader of a blog and a website using libraries alone. I'm impressed."

Annalise laughed. "Nice try, Sherlock Holmes, but you know I have another method of reading your work; moreover, you have it with you."

"Elaborate, if you don't mind." Sherlock's face lit up with excitement.

"Gladly. You currently have my iPhone; naturally, an iPhone is a way I could access a blog and a website. And I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?"

"I will tell you how I know that you have my phone in your possession. And then you will return the phone to me, no questions asked. A fair deal?"

"All right, although I don't see how you'll benefit from this."

"So we have a deal?"

"Yes."

"Shake on it. You will give me my phone after I explain how I know you have it."

"Agreed."

"Then let's play, Sherlock Holmes."

"Game on, Annalise."

They both smiled, and John was scared for a moment by how similar Sherlock and Annalise were. They had very similar eyes, although Sherlock's were lighter, icier. Annalise's were a bit deeper and less cold. It was obvious though that they had the same piercingly blue gaze. They both had pale complexions and skinny builds, although Sherlock was relatively tall and Annalise quite short for her age.

And their characters — were they ever so similar! Both of them clear geniuses, both of them eager to impress or scare or, most likely, both. Both clearly wanted to test their skills with the other. To face another genius; that was the best mental challenge there was.

John wondered what Sherlock had been like as a child. Perhaps he had been like Annalise, with those deeper, softer eyes. Mycroft would know, John thought to himself. _I could ask Mycroft what Sherlock was like when he was five. I'd bet he was just like Annalise._

For a moment, John thought about asking Mycroft what Sherlock was like as a little kid. He then realized what a foolish idea that would be. Why would the British government want to tell _John_, of all people, stories of his brother's childhood?

"Okay then, Annalise," said Sherlock. "Tell me, how do you know that I have your iPhone?"

Annalise smiled and began, "Well. When I woke up, the first things I noticed were A: I was no longer in pain or cold, and B: my dress had been removed. Part A comes in later; let's look at part B first. No dress. I look around; the dress is nowhere in sight. Someone took it off of my body and then brought it somewhere, either the laundry or the trash. It doesn't matter where, although the trash is more likely. What matters is that you disposed of the dress."

"And how do you know that _I_ disposed of the dress? It could have very easily been John or Mrs. Hudson."

"Ah, that's where part A comes in," Annalise explained, "I was brought inside injured and hypothermic and now I am neither. Obviously I was treated for these conditions. There are two people in the house who could have treated me; one is you, and one is John. John is the obvious choice for a few key reasons. One, he is a trained doctor; obviously this is his field of expertise. Two, he was a military doctor in Afghanistan, which I know from the blog. In this circumstance, he would naturally develop a reflex that causes him to want to treat anyone who needs medical care. So naturally he would be the person most likely to treat my injuries."

"Okay, so John treated your injuries. That all makes sense. But what does the dress or the phone have to do with this?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I'm getting there. Patience, Sherlock; it will do you well in life," John smiled at the child's answer and Sherlock's little pout. "I also know that at the same time he was treating me, he sent you to get rid of the dress. How? That's more of a subconscious piece. John lives in your shadow for the most part. You're the detective, and when you're solving a case, he's following you. Even though John is helpful, perhaps crucial, to your work, it is natural that he would grasp at any chance to shine. Today, John was given a window of opportunity when a little girl in need of medical care arrived at Baker Street. No crime involved, no suspects, no murder, no detective-related anything, just straight up medical care. And for once, he has the right to tell you to shut up, because it's in his field and not yours. Now, you being the pain in the arse John thinks you are, he assumes that you'd try to make the situation about you. So he decides to get rid of you. How? By telling you to get rid of the dress."

"Spot on, but what does that have to do with the phone?"

"Well, you follow John's instructions — and the implications of that could be a full-length deduction on its own — anyway, you take the dress. But you of course would figure out instantly that the dress is much too heavy for its size and material; there must be something in the dress. And this is when you find the iPhone I keep in my dress pocket. Now, you obviously didn't return the device to my person, as it's not here. And it's also nowhere in plain sight, i.e. on a table."

"How do you know that?"

"Storm warning alerts. The phone lights up and makes sound during severe storms. If it were on a table, I'd see it."

"Okay. But how do you know I have it?"

"Well, you had the phone. You didn't give it back to me, and you didn't put it somewhere easily accessible. This means that, unless you gave the phone to someone else, you and only you know where the device currently is. And you didn't give it to someone else, because the only people you could give it to are Mrs. Hudson and John, and neither would approve of your keeping the device from me. So you and you alone know where the device is. That technically fits the requirements for you possessing the phone."

"But it might not be on my person."

"I never said it had to be, Sherlock. I didn't say 'on your person' once." Annalise smirked triumphantly.

Sherlock sighed, "You are right. Very clever. Well done."

Annalise grinned. "Except I can prove it's on your person."

"You can?"

"Look at your pockets."

Sherlock looked down at the pockets, noticing the light shining through, "The fabric of your pants is porous, and I can clearly see the light of not one, but two, LED screens giving off storm warnings. Since I'm assuming neither you nor John have multiple smartphones, and since I see John with his over there, that means that you must have my phone, on your person, in your pocket. Now give me my phone."

Sherlock sighed again, and gave her the device. "I didn't attempt to break into it, just so you know."

As Annalise took the phone, she had an idea. "I'm rather shocked, Sherlock; it's just a four-digit code." She watched Sherlock's face for a few moments. "Okay, you were telling the truth."

"How did you figure that out, Annalise?" asked John, raising an eyebrow.

"If Sherlock tried to break into the phone, he would've seen that I have a complex alphanumeric passphrase. I said it was a four-digit code, and he clearly believed me. Had he thought I was lying, there would be a change in his face, a slight one maybe but a change nonetheless." The child smiled cheekily.

"Annalise, you are incredible," said Sherlock. "I've never met a five-year-old able to reason at that level."

"You've never met a five-year-old, Sherlock," teased John.

"Shut up, John. I'm in the midst of praising someone without sarcasm, something that you know I rarely, if ever, do."

"Well, I'm quite honored to receive your praise, Sherlock," said Annalise, her bright blue eyes shining with pride.

"It's deserved." And for the first time in John's memory, Sherlock's icy blue eyes seemed soft, loving even. It seemed in that moment that he really did care about this little girl. It was as if he had witnessed something really, truly special inside her. A true gift.

_He's never looked at me like that,_ John thought bitterly, then shook his head at himself. He was _not_ getting jealous over a little girl, no matter how brilliant she proved herself to be.

"John, may I have some tea?" Annalise asked politely, gently tugging on the fabric of his trousers. John looked down at her, with her scrawny, bony body and blue eyes far too wide for her little face and felt himself melt a little.

"Of course," John said. _I think we could all benefit from some tea, anyway._

* * *

**Hey everyone! Again, thank you livvykitty for betareading! So, what do you think of our Annalise?**

**Love always,**

**KWP**


	4. The Effects of Sentiment

**Chapter Four: The Effects of Sentiment**

While Sherlock, John, and Annalise were sipping their tea, Mrs. Hudson came dowstairs.

"Sherlock, John, are you boys alright?"

"We're fine, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you," John smiled.

"Oh, is this the little girl Sherlock mentioned?"

"I'm Annalise," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hudson."

"What a sweet little thing you are!" Mrs. Hudson smiled, "How old are you, love?"

"Five years old," Annalise replied, her blue eyes full of sweet innocence as she secured a lock of fiery red hair behind her ear. Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he watched the child who had just shown immense intellect moments earlier suddenly switch to the persona of a normal child (which, Sherlock would later deny thinking, was rather endearingly cute, albeit manipulative).

"Only five years old and you're all alone? Poor dear," Mrs. Hudson frowned.

Sherlock gave a derisive snort at that statement, "She's rather capable on her own."

"Sherlock Holmes," Mrs. Hudson reprimanded, "do you have any idea how fragile a child is? She could have been kidnapped, or raped, or _murdered_ at any point! She's far too easy of a target-"

John recognized the look in the child's eyes. He had seen far too many times with Sherlock. Before Annalise could cut in with the biting remark he was sure she would give, John quickly explained, "Annalise is the first child ever to impress Sherlock. She's an absolute genius."

When Sherlock nodded his affirmation, the old woman gave a small sigh of relief, "Oh, dear! So are there going to be two of them in the house now?" She chuckled, "I thought Sherlock was bad enough, but now a mini-Sherlock?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Mrs. Hudson," Annalise assured, "I've no plans to stay here long. Sherlock and John were ever so kind to take me in but I don't—"

"Annalise, if I were you, I wouldn't finish that statement," Sherlock said disapprovingly. He ignored Mrs. Hudson and John chastisements in favor of looking at the little girl, "She's staying. Annalise, you are absolutely staying here."

"But there's no room for me," she argued.

"Yes, there is," said Sherlock. "Come with me, Annalise. John, do me a favor and stay with Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson smiled a little and turned to John, "I suppose I'll start with dinner. Come along John, and mind you, it's only this once. I'm your landlady-"

"Not our housekeeper. I know, Mrs. Hudson." John huffed a laugh and followed her.

Sherlock told her, "You'll hear that a lot, Annalise."

"I'm sure," she said, mirth coloring her tone.

Sherlock took Annalise's hand, and led her into an extra bedroom that hadn't been mentioned or seen before now. "See, Annalise? We had this extra bedroom put in after one of my, ah, more disastrous experiments," He then muttered under his breath, "Even though I did get good data from it..."

Annalise smiled to herself at the comment, "Can I really stay here?"

"No," Sherlock said. Annalise's face fell, and Sherlock quietly smiled "You _may_ stay here."

"Oh…" Her face lit up and the two exchanged quiet chuckles.

* * *

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Hudson," said Annalise as she brought her plate to the kitchen. "Would you like me to help with the dishes?"

"Oh, that's lovely of you to offer, dear, but I'm just fine. Go and spend some time with the boys; you should get to bed soon."

"Okay," she said, and she skipped over to the couch. "Mind if I sit here?" she asked John with a smile.

"Not at all. Have a seat," said John, moving over. Then he leaned in and whispered, "See if you can convince Sherlock to play the violin. I try to ask him but he rarely does. He might listen to you, though."

"Alright," she said. She walked over to Sherlock's side, curious to see how the detective played. "Sherlock?" she pulled on his shirt.

Sherlock turned around to see Annalise's big blue eyes looking up at him.

"Will you play the violin for me and John and Mrs. Hudson? Pleeeeaaaase?" she begged, pushing out her bottom lip and trying to bring tears to her eyes to, hopefully, make her look "cute".

"John put you up to this, didn't he?" Sherlock gave her a knowing look.

Annalise nodded, dropping the faux face, "Yeaaaahhhh… But _I _want you to play, too."

Sherlock couldn't resist the child. He lifted Annalise into the air, and she giggled giddily, the sudden height difference being thrilling. "Sentiment is a chemical defect, Annalise!" Sherlock whined. "Why am I listening to you? Oh, right, because you planned it. You're quite manipulative, aren't you?"

"No! You're just a defective detective," she said, throwing her pale, skinny arms around his neck. "Ohhh, that's fun to say. Defective detective defective detective defective detective."

"Argh!"

John and Mrs. Hudson couldn't stop laughing. "Oh my God, I hope Mycroft still has a camera in here," said John. "He's _got _to see this."

Just then, John's phone dinged with a text. "Read it! It's Mycroft!" laughed Annalise.

"_I do have a camera in here_," John read. "_Tell my brother that if he annoys me, I'll make sure more children are dropped off on Baker Street because this is revenge in the making. MH._"

"I hate you," called Sherlock, knowing Mycroft could hear him.

"Sher-lock," The little girl in his arms whined, squirming impatiently.

"Yes, Annalise?" Sherlock looked directly at her, meeting her pout.

"Now will you play the violin?"

Sherlock sighed, "Of course, of course," he said. He placed her on John's lap. "Here, you be manipulated."

"She would never do such a thing," said John. "C'mere, you." He held Annalise close, smiling as she burrowed into him.

Sherlock pulled out his violin, tuned it quickly, and began to play. He normally didn't play unless he was trying to think, but seeing the bright sparkles in Annalise's eyes, the smile on her face, made it worth it.

_Why does this child have such an effect on me? _Sherlock wondered.

He looked at her, grinning broadly from John's lap.

_I'll look into it further, _He quietly decided.

* * *

It was nine o'clock when Mrs. Hudson finally decided to leave. "That was lovely, Sherlock," she said. "Play for us more often, won't you?"

"Yeah," said Annalise. "I liked that."

"Okay," said Sherlock. "But now it's time for you to go to bed, Annalise," he said.

"But Sherlock," she whined. "I'm not tired."

"Oh, really?" he said. "Let's see. You just closed your eyes and made an expression that I recognize as the one people use to hold back yawns. And now, as I mention yawning, you actually do yawn. You're also rubbing your eyes, although I see you're trying to make it look like itching. I see right through that. Not tired? As if."

"I'm not tired," she argued.

"Oh, Annalise," he rolled his eyes, walking over to her. "I can see the exhaustion written on your face like words on a page."

"I'm not tired in the least. I don't want to go to bed yet," she said, pouting.

"Look at you," Sherlock smirked. He scooped her up again, cooing in her ear, "Clever, brilliant, sweet little Annalise, trying to fool the world's only consulting detective. Oh, you _are _tired. You'd never even _try_ to fool me if you weren't just… about… to…"

She closed her eyes, laying her head on his shoulder, and in just seconds was sound asleep.

"…pass out, just like that," Sherlock finished.

John grinned. "Impressive. I didn't know you could do that."

"I didn't _do _anything," said Sherlock. "She was tired enough but she was resisting sleep. I just got her to stop resisting."

"How did you get her to stop?"

"Unexpected, non-aggressive physical contact. Shocks her a bit, and she forgets to resist sleep. Result is one sleeping child."

"Clever," said the doctor. "I'll have to keep that in mind. In case you aren't around."

"It's a cheap trick, really. If she wasn't literally about to fall asleep, it wouldn't have worked on her; she's too smart.

He carried the little girl up to her room. "Pull down the covers for me, will you?"

"Sure," said John. He turned down the covers, and Sherlock laid her down in the bed. "There we go."

"Goodnight, Annalise," said Sherlock. He turned, and was about to leave, when he remembered something. "Oh, right," he said. "You left this downstairs." He placed the iPhone on the table next to the bed. "See you in the morning." And in that moment, he got the insane urge to brush the soft hair from her shut eyelids and perch on the edge of her bed. He shook it off and turned to leave, muttering, "Sweet dreams."

Brushing a strand of hair from her face, John whispered, "Goodnight, Annalise," and followed his flatmate, gently closing the door behind him.

Annalise's sleep was peaceful, for the first time in a long time. No pain or cold or nightmares plagued her tonight. For once the only thing she could feel was _safe_.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock lay in his bed, reflecting. There was such _sentiment_ that the child had instilled in him. He had to test if this was just his reaction or if this was normal. Moving as silently as a cloud across the sky, he approached Annalise's door. He could tell, from the way she was breathing and the movements behind the door, that she was awake. _Perfect_, he thought.

He knocked quietly. "Annalise?" he asked.

"Come in," she said from behind the door.

He walked in to find her staring at her iPhone. "What're you reading?" he asked.

"Newspaper," she said. "Nothing interesting, as usual, but it's always worth a try. What told you I was reading? Lack of tapping the screen that indicated I wasn't sending a message?"

"Yes, exactly," he said.

"Was that all?"

"Yeah."

"I could've been watching a video."

"You could've, that's true."

"But then you would not see the occasional scrolling-down and you would see some sort of headphones."

"Very well done, Annalise," he said.

"So, what's the experiment?"

"How did you—"

"If it were a case, you'd have been a lot more excited."

"Clever, clever. Yes, it's an experiment. I want to see the difference, if there is one, in John's reaction when asked to wake up by a child."

"So you want me to wake him up?"

"Exactly."

"I can do that."

"Try to be as sweet as possible; I want to really see the effects of sentiment."

"Yes, sir," she said, grinning. "Oh, this'll be fun."

"Indeed," said Sherlock.

* * *

John had been sleeping peacefully, until his door was opened and he heard a little voice call, "John!"

"Mhmhhm," he mumbled.

"John!" said Annalise again. She jumped onto his bed. "Come on! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" She bounced around, shaking his shoulders.

John looked at Annalise. "Go back to sleep, Annalise," he said.

"I can't," she said. She jumped off of the bed, and opened the curtains. John shielded his eyes from the sudden daylight. "See? The _sky's _awake, so _I'm _awake." She climbed up onto the bed again. "Come on, wake up!"

"Go wake Sherlock up," he said, covering his head with a pillow.

Annalise paused for a few moments. Then she said, "John?"

John made the mistake of looking at her. She was making an expression akin to a dejected puppy left out in the rain. "Pleeeeeeaaaaaase?"

John sighed, and gave in. "Fine," he said.

"Yay!" she cheered. She grabbed John's hand, and dragged him out of his room, where Sherlock was waiting.

"Well _done_, Annalise," said Sherlock. "That was incredible."

"You!" said John. "You put her up to that, didn't you?"

"It was revenge for coercing me to play my violin. And it was also a good experiment."

"Sherlock…" he groaned.

"Well, thanks, John," said Sherlock. "Go on back to sleep now."

"Wait… you did that, and now I can go back to sleep? Are you kidding?"

"Of course not." said Sherlock. "Sweet dreams, John."

"Ugh, I hate you both!"

"No, you don't!" The man-child and his actually-a-child counterpart replied. They took off down the stairs, grinning like loons.

_Two Sherlocks are really a lot worse than one_, thought John. He went back to his bedroom and fell asleep, hoping that neither Sherlock nor his mini-counterpart would wake him again.

* * *

**Hey y'alls! I haven't gotten ****_any_**** reviews yet! And I like reviews! So please, please, please review!**

**Thanks as usual to my wonderful beta-reader, livvykitty, for beta-reading and being awesome. I don't know what I'd do without you!**

**Another thing that I need to say to keep out of legal trouble: Annalise IS NOT meant to be copied off of, or based on, Anna from Disney's ****_Frozen_****. Yes, I'm aware that they look similar, and have similar names. That was a coincidence. I did intentionally have Annalise say one of Anna's lines from the beginning of the movie. But that was meant to be a joke on the similarities between the two characters. (also, I love that line) Annalise, as you can see, is already very different in personality from Anna, and she will stay that way.**

**Love always,**

**Kathryn Willa**


	5. School

**Chapter Five: School**

It had been two weeks since John and Sherlock had found Annalise, and, to say the least, the child was having the time of her life. Sherlock didn't have any big cases from Lestrade, so Annalise got to hang out with him in the flat while he saw "clients" and she got to see his reactions at how utterly boring people's lives were. It always made her laugh a great deal. After the twelfth or so client had gone back home (after finding out the solutions to such mundane problems as a missing watch or a friend's peculiar mood), John would come home, the three would have dinner and Sherlock would play the violin.

Then John laid down a big fat reality check.

"Annalise needs to be in school," he said over dinner one Saturday night.

Both Annalise and Sherlock nearly choked. "What?" Sherlock's eyes went wide with disbelief.

"It's the law, Sherlock. She's a kid; kids have to go to school."

"Oh, come on! She's much smarter than the rest of those dull little-"

"Sherlock. It's the law."

"Annalise?" Sherlock turned to Annalise, hoping to find some sort of support from his charge, "What do you think about school?"

"I guess I don't mind," she replied, shrugging, "I hope it isn't too boring."

"Well, I guess that's settled, then," said John. "There's a pretty good school on my way to work. I can take her."

"Okay, fine," Sherlock reluctantly gave in. "Then you'll be the one to take her to school functions. I am having as little as possible to do with this."

* * *

The next day, John mentioned school again over dinner.

"Annalise, tomorrow is your first day of school."

"Okay," said Annalise.

"They sent home a uniform for you to wear tomorrow." John handed Annalise a bag.

"There's a _uniform_?" asked Annalise.

"Oh, for God's sake," muttered Sherlock. It was bad enough someone of Annalise's intelligence would have to be lowered to the standards of the _normal_ child; now she would have to be forced into a silly costume to go along with it.

"Sherlock, stop it. I saw the uniform. It'll look good on Annalise." John, apparently, seemed to miss the point. _You wouldn't be so in favor of a uniform,_ Sherlock thought to himself, _if you would just realize that it's a silly costume indicative of the idiocy involved in herding dull children together to make them duller than normal._

John rolled his eyes. Sherlock was just finding any excuse to hate the notion of Annalise going to school.

"May I go try it on?" she asked.

"Of course," John smiled. "See if it fits."

Annalise went up to her room and opened the bag to reveal a pleated blue skirt, a pair of white knee socks, a white blouse, and a blue sweater with the school logo on it. There was also a box with a pair of black shoes, and even a matching backpack. She quickly changed, and she found that the clothes fit. Pulling the backpack over her shoulders, she ran downstairs.

"Oh, you look great," said John. "Look, Sherlock, the uniform matches her eyes."

"I suppose it could be worse," Sherlock muttered reluctantly. "Do you like it, Annalise?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Well, excellent," said John. "Go and take that off, now, and get your pajamas on. You'll get to wear it for real tomorrow."

* * *

"Annalise! It's time to go! Are you ready?" John called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah," she said. She came downstairs, her backpack on, "I suppose I'm ready."

"Nervous, Annalise?" Sherlock asked. Maybe he could use on her nerves to convince her to stay…

"Like you need to ask, Sherlock Holmes," she said.

"Well, let's go," said John. "Bye, Sherlock. See you tonight."

With that, Sherlock was left in the flat, feeling more alone than he had in weeks.

* * *

"You must be Annalise." The smiling lady pronounced it "Anna."

"It's _Ah_-na-lise," Annalise corrected.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Annalise," said the lady, pronouncing it correctly this time. "I'm Mrs. Thomson. Welcome to our kindergarten class."

"Thank you," said Annalise, smiling sweetly. She could tell, much to her annoyance, that Mrs. Thompson would be dull. Not only that, but she was one of those people who was overly happy. Once she was sure that her teacher's back was turned, she scowled at her.

"Come on in, sweetheart. We're about to have morning meeting, and you can meet your classmates."

Mrs. Thomson picked a bell off of her desk. "Okay, friends, let's clean up, and then gather on the rug for morning meeting!"

Ten or fifteen other kids began walking over to the rug. They all stopped and stared when they saw Annalise.

"Everybody, please sit criss-cross-applesauce," said Mrs. Thomson. "Go on, have a seat, on your bums."

The kids all sat down, still staring at Annalise.

"We have a new student," said Mrs. Thomson. "Would you like to introduce yourself? Tell us your name and what you want to be when you grow up."

"Okay," she said. "I'm Annalise, and that's _Ah_-na-lise, not Ann-na-lise."

"And what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Oh, that's easy. A detective."

"Really? How interesting. Why?"

"Because I am one, already."

"You think so?"

"I _know _so. But enough about me, what about all of you?"

"Everyone, let's tell Annalise our names and what we want to be when we grow up."

They went around the circle, and the responses seemed pretty typical and boring. David, fireman. Ella, ballerina. Sammy, also a fireman. Sylvia, veterinarian (although she pronounced it 'vetenarian'). Matthew, construction worker. Tyler, pirate. Melanie, teacher. Rufus, superhero. Kelsey, doctor. Emily, singer. It went on and on. And then a girl with light brown hair and bright hazel eyes spoke up.

"I'm Maddie," she said. "And I want to be anything except for something my mum wants me to be or something my dad wants me to be."

Annalise grinned. Finally, someone interesting.

* * *

After the morning meeting, the kids had snack time. Annalise was completely unprepared.

She sat down next to Maddie, the interesting girl, who had taken out her lunch box full of snacks.

"Don't you have a snack?" the other girl asked.

"I didn't know we were supposed to bring snacks," Annalise replied.

"That's okay." Maddie gave a tentative smile. "We can share today. Let's see… Do you like strawberry yogurt?"

"Yes, but really, you don't have to." Annalise pushed the yogurt back into the other girl's hand.

"It's okay. My mum packs me way, _way_ too much every day. I always end up having to bring half my snack home. She'll be so glad that all of the food is gone today." Maddie passed Annalise the yogurt and a spoon. "Enjoy."

"Thanks, Maddie," Annalise said, "I'll make sure I bring snacks tomorrow."

"Your name is Annalise, right?"

"Yeah, and you pronounced it right, too."

"Great!" Maddie gave her a grin, "I _hate_ when people get my name wrong. It's Madeline with a short i, but everyone pronounces it Madeline with a long i. So I just go by Maddie."

"I see," Annalise nodded. Then she leaned in. "Tell me something, Maddie," Annalise whispered to the other child conspiratorially, a smile forming on her face, "when did your parents get divorced? This summer?"

Maddie's eyes widened in shock. "How… how did you know…"

Annalise grinned. "I'm a detective, remember? I figure stuff out from people."

"But how?"

"Well, when you introduced yourself, you said that you wanted to be anything but something your mum wanted or something your dad wanted. Most people say "mum and dad" or "parents," but you separated them quite clearly. Almost forced, actually. That suggests a physical separation, but you aren't used to it, so you force it. You also show dislike for your parents; this suggests again a recent divorce." She paused for a moment, "So, was I right?"

"Completely," Maddie said, the previous shock wearing off and face splitting in a wide grin. "You're incredible."

"You should meet Sherlock," Annalise said absentmindedly, sticking a spoon full of the sweet yogurt in her mouth.

"Sherlock? Who's he?"

"Oh… he's a detective friend of mine. I sort of live with him now. It's a long story."

"Snack time lasts twenty more minutes," said Maddie. "Tell me."

* * *

"So, what you're saying is, you don't know anything from when you were three and four, and you only know your name from a bracelet?"

"Yep."

"Okay… And you live with a detective and a doctor in their flat because they found you on the streets?"

"Yep!"

"Wow… That sounds like it comes out of a story, and it's real for you… What's it like?"

"Well, after you get past the fact that you don't remember your fourth birthday, it's kind of fun, actually. I like my weird story. And I really, really like Sherlock and John."

"So are they like your dads?"

"They're the closest I've got."

"That's something," said Maddie. "My mum and dad spend lots of time arguing with each other. They hardly notice me," She sighed, and tucked a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. "D'you think maybe we could get together and play after school someday?"

"Sure, but you don't want to come to my house."

"Why not?"

"Sherlock shoots at the wallpaper when he gets bored, plays the violin nonstop, and, trust me, you _don't_ want to know what's in our refrigerator."

"Now I _really _want to come over," The two girls laughed before Maddie began excitedly talking about her own house, "Well, you can come over to my house, then," said Maddie. "I have a swing set and a slide and monkey bars in my backyard at my mum's. And a dollhouse with tons of dolls and dress-up clothes."

"Wow, that sounds so fun!" Annalise smiled, "What about at your dad's?"

"I don't live with my dad as much. But my stepmom Kathy is nice. And we have a puppy there."

"Oh, I love dogs!" said Annalise.

"Except I have a really mean older stepbrother at my dad's. He calls me rude names and he kicks me and steals my stuff."

Annalise grinned mischievously. "Maybe if I come to your dad's, I'll help you get revenge."

"How?"

"By finding out his secrets."

"You can do that? Oh, right, detective."

"Yep. You should meet Sherlock, actually. He could help you become a detective too, although he says that some people are just made for it."

"Yeah, I'm probably not the kind of person that would make a good detective. I don't notice things like you do, Annalise."

"That's okay. John's not good at that stuff either, sometimes. But he and Sherlock solve cases together and they work really well."

"So I can be like John!"

"Yeah!"

Annalise couldn't believe it. She was making a friend.

* * *

**Hey everyone! So, jsyk, Maddie isn't really going to be a major character in the grand scheme of Spark, but I did think that Annalise needed to make a friend and be a somewhat-normal five year old. I based Maddie off of a very bright, very sweet, six-year-old friend of mine. Love you for always, my little snuggle-bunny sweetheart!**

**Also, sorry for the lack of Sherlock/John in this chapter. I promise, the next one's going to be Johnlock-centric and also a bit scary/angsty. But I won't tell you much more, because spoilers! *winks at fellow Whovians***

**As always, thank you to livvykitty for beta reading and of course thank you to everyone who reads this!**

**Love always,**

**Kathryn Willa**

**(P.S. From the authoress's beta reader, please remember to review. ****Love you all as well! ;))**


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